In The Blink of An Eye
by katstales
Summary: Rodney volunteers John to assist the locals in order to gain access to an Ancient structure. Unfortunately, things don't go quite according to plan. ShepWhump, RodneyWump, Angst all around.
1. Chapter 1

_Notes: _First and foremost, I must apologize to everybetty for the long delay in posting this. I am SO very, very sorry for my tardiness. I can only hope you find it was worth the wait. Second, this was written for the Shep's Atlantis ficathon on LiveJournal. The prompt was for "ShepWhump... ShepWh- errr, I mean, infirmary scene (with Carson, natch), humor interspersed amongst the whumpage."

* * *

Rodney bustled into the long-abandoned room filled with dormant Ancient equipment. Rubbing his hands together gleefully, he headed for the console in the center of the room.

"Rodney, should we not wait with Ronon for John to finish this...testing flight? What if he needs your assistance to land successfully?" Teyla was right behind him, a worried look gracing her features.

McKay waved her off, unmoved by her concern. "Oh please. Sheppard has Conan out there to hold his hand once he gets back on the ground--he doesn't need me, too. And if by some astronomically, infinitesimally small chance he does need my help? Well, that's what radios are for." Gracing her with a smug, know-it-all look, he tapped the device in his vest pocket.

Having said his piece, he set about brushing the dust from the surface of the unit and powering up the station. Taking his laptop out of his pack, he quickly had it hooked up to the main console and then set about checking over the smaller control panels dotted about the small room's walls. After ensuring that all were functioning, he headed back to inspect the data scrolling down the screen of his laptop, humming a nameless tune as he worked.

Satisfied with the data it displayed, he pulled out his LSD and checked for energy signatures. His eyes widened as his grin morphed into the Cheshire Cat's twin. "Bingo! We have here, ladies and gentlemen..." His tone and expression smug, he walked over to the far wall and waved a hand over the panel, which opened to reveal a round orange glowing disk. He pressed the disk which rose to reveal a very familiar object. Pointing to it, his smug expression still in place, he continued his commentary. "One fully functional and over half-charged ZPM. Exactly as I predicted, I might add."

Before Teyla could respond, Ronon's voice sounded over their radios. "Sheppard's coming back now. So far, so good."

Rodney was the first to reply. "Good. Once he's back on the ground, tell him to get his skinny ass down here--we've darn near hit the mother lode for a change."

"Tell him yourself; I'll let you know when he's down." Ronon cut the transmission without signing off, but it was plain that he considered the conversation over.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," mumbled McKay, reaching for the energy module. To his surprise, the glowing tube suddenly retraced and closed. Frowning, he waved his hand over it to raise it, but nothing happened.

He started over to his laptop at the main console when a nervous-sounding Teyla called out to him. "Rodney, I believe you should come look at this screen right away," she said, pointing to her left.

He'd barely made it two steps when a low hum began to build. He froze for an instant, a look of horror crossing his face. "Oh no! Nononono." He all but flew the rest of the way to the console and began frantically manipulating controls.

"Rodney?"

Teyla sounded even more nervous and wary, but the scientist had no time for explanations. "Working here!"

The humming intensified, gaining both volume and pitch as it continued to build, and Rodney cursed at the machine in front of him. "Come on, come on, disengage already!"

His hands stilled suddenly as the noise died out. The screen in front of him flashed a message in Ancient, casting an eerie glow over his features. He stared in disbelief at the words, ignoring Ronon's frantic voice in his ear telling him what he already knew. Swallowing hard, his eyes still wide with shock, he turned to Teyla. "Oh God. I just killed Sheppard."


	2. Chapter 2

John couldn't stop grinning as the Mallarian version of an airplane skimmed the treetops before again climbing to cruise above them. He had to admit, the craft did seem to be sturdy and well-engineered, despite their inexperience. Whether or not he was going to admit to Rodney that the scientist had been right about that remained to be seen.

"Sheppard?" Ronon's anxious voice sounded over the radio in his ear.

The pilot chuckled, keying his own mike. "I'm still fine, Ronon. You gonna stop radioing every time the wind changes, buddy. People will talk," he kidded.

"So?" Dex was apparently not in a joking mood.

"Just stay off the radio let me concentrate on flying the damn plane, will ya?"

"I thought this plane didn't respond to thoughts like the Ancestors' ships."

Caught in another downdraft, Sheppard fought for control as he ground out his answer. "It doesn't, which is why I need to concentrate on what I'm doing here. Now if you don't mind..." He finally managed to bring the craft back under control and returned to his previous altitude. "Maintain radio silence unless McKay or Teyla run into trouble. That's an order, by the way, so don't call me again just because I hit another rough spot. Sheppard out."

Expertly guiding the plane through the alien sky, his thoughts turned to his predecessors and their unfortunate demises. He supposed they should offer to set up some sort of flight training program for future prospective Mallarian pilots, as they would definitely need some help in learning how to deal with the constantly-changing wind conditions here.

Another rough spot drew him out of his thoughts. The slight dip in altitude was immediately followed by a familiar voice in his ear. "Sheppard?"

Shaking his head and rolling his eyes, he couldn't help the exasperation that laced his reply. "I thought we agreed you weren't going to call me every time I hit some turbulence, buddy?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind, I'll explain later. I'm fine, the plane is fine, everything is fine. Okay?"

John could see Ronon's shrug in his mind as he answered. "Okay."

"Now as much as I'm enjoying our little chats here, I really need to get back to flying this thing. Sheppard out."

There was only a moment of silence before the Satedan's next call. "Sheppard?"

"What?" snapped the pilot.

"Lazzon says that's good and wants you head back to the landing site."

John shook his head. "This why you called in the first place, isn't it? You should have said something."

"Just did."

"That you did." John didn't feel like wasting anymore breath on arguing with the Satedan. "I'll see you back at the runway in ten. And check in with Rodney and see how he and Teyla are doing, will ya? Sheppard out."

The next few minutes were uneventful and John was able to just relax and enjoy the flight. He'd never get tired of flying, be it soaring through the clouds and sky on Earth or some alien planet where he was taking in the sights from the sky that no human had ever seen before.

His reverie was rudely interrupted by a bright flash of light from the ground below and he instinctively turned the plane in an attempt to avoid it. "What the..." Before he could even complete the thought, the plane shuddered violently as the bright pulse struck the aircraft. John fought to maintain altitude and speed, but the engines had already begun to sputter and the controls had become suddenly sluggish.

Knowing he'd never make it back to the landing site, Sheppard quickly scoured the nearby terrain for a place to put down. To his left, there was a small meadow that appeared to be his only hope. Everything else as far as he could see was trees, trees, and more trees. The engines gave a final gasp and died for good as he struggled to turn the plane toward the meadow.

Without power, there was no way for John to maintain his altitude and the aircraft dropped like a rock. He fought the controls, trying to get every bit of air he could in the hope of buying enough time to make it to the meadow.

The trees grew ever closer and it quickly became apparent that there was no way he was going to stay up long enough to attempt a landing. Praying that the parachute he'd been given was as efficient at the plane had been, he unbuckled his seatbelt and prepared to climb out.

John placed one foot on the seat and pushed off, expecting to find himself clear of the plane. To his unpleasant surprise, however, he went nowhere. Looking down, he found his other foot was wedged tightly between something protruding through the floorboard and the pedals. Cursing, he reached down to pull it free, but the boot remained stubbornly wedged in place. Knowing his time was running short, he jerked his foot hard, but again, it remained trapped. Desperate, he reached down and struggled to free himself.

Precious minutes passed as he tugged and pulled, costing him any chance at parachuting to safety. The plane skimmed the tops of the trees, the uppermost branches tearing at the underbelly of the aircraft as it gained speed during the uncontrolled descent. John knew there was no way to stop or even slow it to any degree, and that meant there was no way he'd survive if he stayed in the aircraft all the way down. At last, his foot came free and, offering up a quick prayer to whatever god might be listening, he took a deep breath and leapt from the plane.


	3. Chapter 3

"Ronon, put him down!" Teyla's eyes were flashing with anger. "He is a valued member of our team."

Dex continued to hold McKay against the tree, his arm across the scientist's windpipe cutting off his air supply. "He killed Sheppard. That means he dies, too," ground out the angry Satedan.

Rodney continued to struggle, pulling at the strong arms pinning him to the tree. "He's right. I deserve it." The scientist's voice was barely a whisper as he forced out the words in a sickly-sounding wheeze.

"It was an accident," insisted the Athosian. "And Colonel Sheppard will not be pleased when he hears of your behavior."

"Dead men can't hear." Dex was still holding McKay, his lips drawn up in a snarl.

"And what if he is merely injured and not dead? You are wasting valuable time with this childish vendetta--time that John may well be sorely in need of. Now let him go, Ronon."

Knowing Teyla was right, the Satedan let out a roar of frustration and abruptly dropped McKay, who promptly collapsed in a heap on the ground. He stood over the gasping scientist, glaring down at him. "We find Sheppard dead, then I finish what I started."

Rodney nodded in agreement, incapable of speech for the moment, and waved him away. Dex stalked off, stopping only long enough to tower over his female teammate and stare down menacingly down at her. "I take point. You want him breathing, you keep him away from me."

Teyla rolled her eyes and moved over to assist McKay in getting to his feet. Once he was upright, he waved her off, wheezing out his gratitude. "Thanks."

She nodded, prodding him to start moving. "I will cover our six," she informed him, her tone brooking no argument. "Ronon said that Lazzon was quite upset over the loss of yet another aircraft. It is quite likely he will send someone to find us."

Still rubbing his abused throat, McKay nodded and stumbled off after Ronon. He hadn't needed the reminder that he'd not only killed Sheppard, he'd also put the lives of his teammates in danger. Although with Ronon in his current mood, maybe not so much him. As pissed as the Big Guy was, he could probably stop anything they could throw--or fire--at him with one of those death-glares he was so good at. He could see it now. Bullets stopping in mid-air and dropping to the ground in a heap of melted metal. Bolts of energy would fizzle out with a whimper, all under the Satedan's withering glare. And all because of Rodney's own stupid greed.

Branches clipped him in the face and neck as they set a brisk pace through the dense brush, but McKay felt none of it. There was only one thing that mattered to him now: Sheppard was dead and it was completely and totally his, Meredith Rodney McKay's, fault. How had everything gone so wrong so damn fast anyway? For that matter, why had he ever talked Sheppard into flying the stupid plane in the first place?

Over and over the events leading up to the most spectacularly FUBARed mission he'd ever had the misfortune to undertake played out in his mind. They'd come to P9G-502 because of an energy signature that Reaves' team had picked up while on a trading mission. Reaves and his team were negotiators, not scientists, and though they could take readings, it was up to others to go back and investigate when those readings turned up anything interesting. Like energy signatures that indicated a planet might well have a working ZPM--which of course Rodney immediately volunteered his team to investigate.

The people of P9G-502, otherwise known as the Mallarians, were more advanced than most societies they'd encountered since coming to Pegasus. They had a long way to go before they would even come close to matching the Genii, though. Still, they had electricity and were extremely close to achieving air travel. That had piqued Sheppard's interest enough that he had immediately agreed to the mission, much to McKay's delight.

They'd hit a snag almost immediately upon their arrival. The energy readings were located in a highly-restricted area and the ruling council was dragging their feet about granting permission to investigate it. Something about religious rituals and procedures needing to be followed. Rodney had pretty much stopped listening after the word "no" though, so he had missed most of the details.

Sheppard and Ronon had been whisked off to tour the Mallarian equivalent of a military base while Rodney and Teyla were shown their scientific research division, including their fledgling test flight facility.

So when the tours were over and the council reconvened, he had offered to help them get their struggling aviation program off the ground in return for access to the site where the energy signature originated. And voila, suddenly the religious objections were all but forgotten. Well okay, so he'd had to include volunteering Sheppard as test pilot to seal the deal, but the man was always insisting he could fly anything so Rodney hadn't seen any problem with it. He'd seen the plans as well as the reports on the first three unsuccessful attempts, so he knew the craft was sound.

_"Rodney!" Sheppard leaned toward him, speaking out of the side of his mouth while still smiling inanely at the council members. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed._

_McKay rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, I've seen all the data. This should be a piece of cake for you. And come on, what pilot worth their salt wouldn't want to be in on an alien version of Kittyhawk? You'll be famous."_

_The colonel grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the far corner of the room, all the while smiling at the council members with that grin of his that for whatever reason seemed to turn every member of the opposite sex that he met into a gushing pile of goo. "If you'll just excuse us for a moment..."_

_The moment his back was to the council, however, Sheppard's smile disappeared. "Are you trying to get me killed here--again--or what? They've already crashed three prototypes and not one of those pilots has lived to tell about it!"_

_"Give me some credit, Colonel HotShot. I've seen the schematics for the plane and read the reports on all three of the crashes. The design is sound. Every single one of those crashes was caused by pilot error."_

_"So they say. But how do we know for sure the reports are accurate? Could be they're trying to cover up the fact that the crashes were caused by shoddy workmanship or defective materials or any number of other things--or am I the only one who thought of that?"_

_Rodney folded his arms across his chest, bristling at the accusation. "No, you are not the only one who thought of that. Which is why I insisted on inspecting the plane and the construction site. I also took some atmospheric readings. And lo and behold, I discovered that this planet has some rather unusual and unpredictable wind patterns. Changes can be sudden and sometimes drastic, which shouldn't be any problem for an experienced pilot like yourself. However for an amateur who's never flown before and without the benefit of an experienced teacher..."_

_"Yeah, yeah, okay. I get the picture." Sheppard paused and Rodney could see him thinking the situation through. "You're sure that the plane is sound? No chance that those crashes were due to anything other than pilot error?"_

_"Reasonably certain, yes. I'm as sure as I can be, at any rate." The scowl on Rodney's face deepened. "Look, I know you're still having some trust issues after Doranda, but I swear to you, I would never, ever suggest this if I thought there was even the slightest chance that that plane was unsafe."_

_"Not even if it meant getting your hands on a ZPM?" challenged the colonel._

_Rodney felt like he'd been slapped. "Fine, I suppose I might have deserved that one. But I'd like to state for the record here that no, there is no way I'd ask or suggest you risk your life, not even if it meant getting my hands on a ZPM, as you so eloquently put it."_

So in the end, Sheppard had trusted Rodney's judgment and agreed to fly the plane. And because of that, because Rodney just had to check out that energy signature sooner rather than later, Sheppard was dead. And Rodney had killed him.

He came to an abrupt halt, running smack dab into the middle of Ronon's back. He'd been so lost in thought, he hadn't seen the Satedan stop and give the signal to do likewise. So true to the laws of physics, he immediately bounced off the immovable object and hit the ground hard, landing square on his backside. The big man glared at him, prompting Rodney to swallow hard, but Ronon said nothing and simply waited for Teyla to catch up before explaining.

Like the Satedan, she was barely winded when she pulled up next to them. She stopped only long enough to pull Rodney to his feet before demanding answers. "What is it?"

Ronon's expression was grave as he turned to her, pointing in the opposite direction. "There."

Rodney looked past the mountain of a man to the terrain beyond. And there in a small meadow, he saw the smoldering remains of the airplane Sheppard had been flying. Until Rodney had shot him down, at least. A rock formed in the pit of his stomach as he surveyed the scattered wreckage, much of it still burning. How the hell could anyone have survived something like that?

He was startled out of his thoughts when Ronon suddenly grabbed him by the vest and pulled him close, glaring down at him. "You better pray we find him alive, little man. Now come on. And stay behind me."


	4. Chapter 4

Awareness returned slowly. At first John thought it was dark out, but then he realized that his eyes were closed and stubbornly refusing all attempts to open them. His head ached abominably, as did most of his torso and three of his four limbs.

He tried moving his fingers first, groaning as pain shot up his right arm and shoulder with the movement. His left arm seemed to be the least painful part of his body, so he again wiggled the fingers. This time they did more than merely twitch and he closed his hand into a fist.

The next step was attempting to raise the arm, bending it at the elbow. After several failures, he finally persuaded his hand to move up to touch his throbbing forehead. He knew the wet stickiness he found there was blood, even without seeing it. He tried again to force his eyes to open, finally succeeding after several attempts.

Above him, he saw blotches of green and brown interspersed with blue. He blinked, trying to bring it all into focus, but the blobs of color remained stubbornly blurred. Giving up for the time being, he closed his eyes and let his arm drop back to the ground.

He drifted in the darkness, but he had no idea how much time had passed when next he found awareness. Not caring to repeat the previous pain-filled experience with his hands and arms, he decided to move on to his other extremities and attempted to flex his toes instead. Another moan, this one closer to a scream, accompanied the pain that tore through both limbs. On one leg it was his ankle that seemed to be the source of his agony; on the other his knee seemed to be protesting the loudest.

He tried to take a deep breath and ride out the pain, but that act brought an entirely different world of hurt. He settled for taking rapid, shallow breaths until the agony returned to a more manageable level, but the darkness again stole him away before he could achieve success.

As before, he had no idea how much time had passed when he next opened his eyes. The green and blue blotches were slightly clearer this time, but still far from being well-defined. Whimpering, he turned his head to the side in an attempt to find some clue as to where he was--and how he got there.

Nausea threatened to spill the meager contents of his stomach, but he held on by sheer determination. _Great, concussion on top of the broken ribs. Dislocated shoulder for sure, possible broken bones there, too. Ankle could be sprained or broken, no way to tell at the moment. Same with the knee._

It was then he became aware of the soft footfalls heading his way. He started to reach for his sidearm, but his dislocated shoulder quickly reminded him that it wasn't a good idea and he cried out in spite of his efforts to stifle the noise. That in turn, set off another round of agony in his chest. As his vision grayed out from the pain, he could do nothing save watch as a single pair of legs clad in tan-colored material stealthily approached. By the time the owner of those legs stood over him, John had again slipped into unconsciousness.


	5. Chapter 5

Ronon left Teyla and Rodney to pick their way down the steep hill to the crash sight while he silently disappeared back into the brush and forest they'd just emerged from. Rodney didn't really know what he was doing, nor did he care to ask. He was far more concerned with what he and his Athosian teammate were going to find down below in the wreckage.

For instance, would the body be intact? Easily identifiable? Burned beyond any hope of recognition? He tried really hard not to think about the possibility of having to comb the meadow looking for enough parts of his friend to bring home for burial, but the scenario refused to stop playing out over and over--in vivid Technicolor, of course--in his mind. More than once the unwanted thoughts had him stumbling and reaching out to steady himself, and more than once he ended up on his already-sore backside.

The third time he grabbed Teyla's shoulder to steady himself, she turned to him with a questioning look. "Perhaps we should stop a moment to rest?" she suggested, her patience clearly wearing thin.

Rodney waved her on. "No, I'm fine. Sorry," he added hastily, almost an afterthought. Brushing past her, he concentrated on his footing and ignored the acrid smoke from the crash drifting up to meet them.

By the time he reached the bottom of the hill, Rodney was winded and coughing persistently. Nonetheless, he paused only long enough to steel himself against what he expected to find before striding forward into the crash site.

Burning pieces of the aircraft were sparse at first, but the closer he got to the main impact site, the larger the fires and pieces of debris became. The smoke grew thicker also, making it more and more difficult to see where he was going. Finally he stopped to pull a handkerchief from his vest, wetting it down with water from his flask, and held it up to cover his nose and mouth.

He'd only made it a few steps further when he tripped on something, nearly falling into a burning chunk of the aircraft. Bile rose in his in throat as immediately recognized the dark object upon bending down to inspect it. He closed his eyes a moment, gathering what courage he could muster, and tentatively reached out for it.

He was breathing heavily, almost to the point of hyperventilating, by the time his hand closed around the black leather. Forcing himself to continue, he pulled on it until it was free of the wreckage it had been pinned under. He stood slowly and turned to show Teyla what he'd found.

Her eyes widened as she, too, immediately recognized it and her gaze instantly met his, asking the dreaded question without speaking a word. Rodney shook his head and her shoulders slumped in relief. She stepped forward, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder and nodded toward an unexplored area.

Rodney returned the nod, swallowing hard, and tucked Sheppard's empty boot under his arm. He patted her hand, still on his shoulder, and moved away to continue the grim search.


	6. Chapter 6

Ronon had managed to locate their Mallarian pursuers and was on his way back to McKay and Teyla to check in when he first heard the noise. He froze where he stood, waiting and listening in order to further pinpoint the location of the person who made it.

And he knew for certain it was a person. Likely it was Sheppard, but there was no telling for sure until he got closer. Much closer. Finally, another noise, this time louder and definitely a cry of pain. Moving as stealthily as he was able, Dex fluidly wove his way through the brush and trees.

He was almost upon him when he heard the whimpering. His heart rose to his throat as it became clear that the noises were definitely coming from Sheppard. Relief that his new friend lived warred with concern over how badly the man must be hurt to cause him to make those kind of noises.

When he drew close enough to see the pilot, Ronon could tell that the injured man was conscious. Yet he didn't dare call out for fear of bringing the angry Mallarians straight to them. By the time he reached Sheppard's side and knelt beside him, his eyes had closed. Dex carefully reached out and felt the side of his neck, relieved to find a steady, if somewhat weak, beat beneath his fingertips.

He knew that the search party was not far behind him. That meant he'd need to get Sheppard out of there as soon as possible. One look at the pilot and it was clear that his shoulder had been dislocated. Ronon took advantage of his unconscious state and quickly put it back into place. If he'd waited until Sheppard was awake, there was no way the man would have been able to keep silent while he popped it back into the socket and that would have lead the searchers straight to them. He used the pilot's outer shirt to immobilize the limb and then hurriedly lifted him over his shoulder into a fireman's carry. With a final look around to make certain they hadn't been discovered, he headed off to find Teyla and McKay.

Dex skirted the tree-lined ridge around the meadow clearing where the plane had gone down until he was satisfied that he'd put enough distance between himself and the Mallarians to safely treat the pilot's wounds and contact the others. Carefully, he lowered Sheppard to the ground and checked him over.

He pulled out his canteen and tilted it to the unconscious man's lips, letting the wetness run into the pilot's mouth, even though much of it ended up running back out and down his chin. He then poured some of the remaining water over as many of the cuts and abrasions to wash them off. Satisfied he'd done all he could with his limited supplies, Ronon keyed his mike. "I'm up on the ridge straight above and to the left of your current position. Mallarian searchers are close. You should both get up here now."

"Ronon, what is it?" demanded Teyla. "We have not yet located Colonel Sheppard."

Dex hesitated, not sure quite how to tell them his news. "Sheppard's alive, but he's hurt bad."

"Oh really. And how would..." Rodney was about to snap at him, when his eyes widened in realization. Turning to Teyla, he found much the same expression on mirrored on her face.

In wordless agreement, the pair abandoned their search and hurried up the steep hill.

"We are on our way now," said Teyla, scrambling up the incline as fast as she could go. And then she began to pray.


	7. Chapter 7

"What's wrong with him? Why is he unconscious? What have you done to him? Please tell me you haven't done anything to make him worse. And how did he get all the way up here after the crash?" Rodney rapidly fired question after question at the Satedan as he and Teyla approached.

Ronon stood from where he been kneeling next to Sheppard, stepping over the injured pilot to tower menacingly over the scientist. "Don't try to put this on me. I'm not the one who shot him out of the sky."

McKay flinched at the accusation, feeling much like he'd been sucker-punched. It was the last thing he'd intended to have happen when he entered that facility, but that didn't change the fact that he was the one responsible for the crash, which in turn meant he was the one responsible for Sheppard's injuries. While he was more than willing to own up to his part in the whole thing, if Conan had aggravated Sheppard's injuries or made them worse in any way, well, Rodney wasn't about take responsibility for that in any way, shape, or form.

And he was just about to tell Sheppard's pet-Neanderthal exactly that when Teyla deftly stepped between the pair and pushed them arms' length apart. "Now is not the time for petty recriminations," she hissed. "Should we not be concentrating on helping Colonel Sheppard rather than bickering among ourselves and making inane accusations? Your time and skills would be far better served finding a way to avoid the Mallarians and get him back to the stargate and Atlantis as quickly as possible, would they not?"

She let the two men digest her words before dropping her arms and making her way to Sheppard's side, where she immediately began to assess and bandage his wounds. Ronon continued to glare at McKay as he spoke to Teyla. "I'm gonna check the progress of the search party." Without another word, he turned on his heel and headed off.

Rodney watched him go before turning to observe Teyla tend to Sheppard's wounds. It was the first time he'd allowed himself to really look at the damage that the crash he'd caused had done to his friend. A trail of red snaked down one side of his neck from somewhere up higher in that unruly mop of hair on his head. Likewise, his face and neck were dotted with scratches, scrapes, and abrasions, and nearly all of them leaking varying degrees of red. His over shirt had been removed and re-fastened to trap one of his arms next to his body, which likely meant an injury to the shoulder or collar bone. Unable to see any further damage, he dropped to his knees and looked anxiously across at her while she continued to work. "So, um, ho-how is he?"

The Athosian continued to work, not stopping for even a moment to look up at Rodney as she answered him. "Aside from the obvious head and facial injuries, I believe he has dislocated his shoulder, as well as broken several ribs. His knee is quite swollen, however I am unsure if it is fractured or merely sprained. The same is true of his other leg, but at the ankle instead of the knee."

Even though he knew she wasn't looking, McKay nodded dumbly in answer. He continued to watch her until he could no longer stand the silence. "Can I, um, you know, help or...something?"

Teyla shook her head, applying the last of the bandages to Sheppard's face. "I am sorry, but there is nothing more to be done now until we can get him into Dr. Beckett's hands."

"Oh." Rodney pulled out his canteen and held it toward her. "Do you need some more water? I noticed that you used a lot of yours when you were, um..." He didn't finish the sentence, instead gesturing toward their fallen leader.

Ronon picked that moment to come silently sprinting back onto the scene. "We gotta move--now. Mallarians are maybe five minutes behind me, maybe less." Without waiting for them to say anything, he moved directly to Sheppard's side and pulled him up into a fireman's carry. Once the pilot was settled, he pulled out his blaster and set it to stun.

"What do you think you're doing?" hissed Rodney. "You could kill him carrying him like that with broken ribs!"

Ronon paid him no mind and started off, prompting McKay to grab his sleeve. Dex immediately brought the blaster up under Rodney's chin, flipping the switch to kill. "Let go, little man, or you die."

To his credit, Rodney didn't flinch. He stared back defiantly as he made his position clear. "Look, I might have been responsible for the crash, and as such, that makes me responsible for his current injuries. But Teyla said he's got broken ribs. If you carry him like that, odds are one of those ribs is going to puncture a lung--and that, my big hairy friend, would be a very bad thing for him...not to mention totally your fault."

Teyla stepped forward, but before she could intervene in any way, Dex cut her off. "That search party's gonna be here any minute. They catch up with us and he's dead for sure. So what's it gonna be? We gonna stand here and argue until they find us or get him to the 'gate and Beckett?"

"Perhaps it would be best if Doctor McKay and I were to carry John between us. That way both of your hands would be free to deal with any Mallarians we might encounter." Teyla worriedly checked the colonel over with her eyes as she put forth the suggestion.

"How you gonna manage that with his shoulder? Besides, no time for that now," insisted Dex. "We need to put some distance between us and the searchers."

Rodney sighed. "You have no idea how much it pains me to admit this, but Conan's right. If they're that close, then we have to get moving. We can figure it out once we've put sufficient distance between us."

Mallarian voices began to echo through the forest, the sound growing closer and closer. Teyla conceded the point by nodding in the direction they needed to travel. "You should take point. Doctor McKay can help you and I will go last to cover our exit."

Ronon didn't argue and set off at a brisk pace. Rodney followed close behind, wincing with each swing of Sheppard's hands as they swayed back and forth with each step the Satedan took. He could only imagine the effect all that bouncing was having on the injuries the colonel had sustained.

He was so busy watching Sheppard that Rodney didn't notice when Ronon suddenly pulled up and dropped to a crouch. McKay ran right into him, bouncing off and losing his balance. "What did you do that for?" he demanded, his voice a loud whisper.

Dex made a cutting motion with his hand across his throat, glaring at the scientist. Rodney was suddenly very glad that looks couldn't actually kill and didn't push the issue. McKay waited for some sort of signal as to what was happening, more than willing to defer to the Satedan. He had no illusions as to who was better suited to this particular aspect of going offworld. This was Ronon's forte, and Sheppard's and even Teyla's--and definitely NOT his.

Without making a sound, Ronon carefully laid the still-unconscious pilot next to Rodney, who still sat where he'd fallen after running into the Satedan. He then pointed between McKay and Sheppard, silently instructing Rodney to look after the injured man. At Rodney's nod, Dex abruptly turned and vanished into the woods ahead of them. Through the entire transfer, as well as his sudden exit, Ronon hadn't made any noise whatsoever, leaving McKay to stare after him and wonder where he was headed.

A faint groan next to him quickly brought Rodney's attention back to Sheppard. Another groan, louder this time, and the injured pilot's eyes began to flutter as he finally began to show signs of regaining consciousness. McKay wanted to feel relieved, but as he looked to where Ronon had disappeared and recalled the way he'd silently been told in no uncertain terms to remain quiet and his relief instantly morphed into worry of them being discovered.

Another loud groan from the colonel drew his gaze back to the injured man next to him. He reacted without thinking and placed his hand over Sheppard's mouth, cautioning him in a loud whisper as the pilot began to weakly struggle against the obstruction. "Will you stop that? Conan's off chasing someone...or maybe something...he didn't really say. But he did make it very clear that noise was a very bad idea before he left. So if I take my hand away are you going to be quiet?"

John stilled at the sound of Rodney's voice, breathing heavily through his nose. He managed a slight nod, so McKay slowly removed his hand. The physicist held his breath, watching anxiously to see if Sheppard was going to do as told.

The pilot's breathing was shallow and rapid, his face creased with pain lines. He started to pull his leg up, but immediately stopped, swallowing the cry of agony that threatened to escape with the movement. He gritted his teeth, but a soft whimper escaped along with a whispered slur of complaint. "H'rrts."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Well of course it hurts, you idiot. You did just fall out of the sky without a parachute--or at least not much of one. Now stop trying to move before you permanently damage something. Other than your head I mean, which has been well beyond all hope for years now."

Sheppard couldn't help but chuckle at McKay's response, which unfortunately set off another bout of coughing. Rodney could do nothing but watch helplessly as the pilot struggled to get himself back under control. It seemed like forever before the deep lines in the colonel's forehead eased and his breathing returned to the shallow panting. "Sorry," offered the physicist. "I should probably stop talking now."

"Yeah, you should. But odds are better of me flying one of the Ancestors' ships than you not talking." Ronon smirked as Rodney nearly jumped out of his skin at the Satedan's sudden reappearance.

"Would you stop doing that!" wailed McKay. "Because if you make me have a heart attack there will be two of us to carry, you know. And while I've no doubt that you'd love nothing better than to leave me here to fend for myself, we both know that Sheppard would not be happy to hear you left a man behind. Especially one who was dying because you gave him a heart attack."

Ronon snorted. "And how's he gonna feel when we all get caught because you can't keep quiet?"

"Stop." The soft demand immediately put an end to the argument as both men turned their attention to the injured pilot. "Team...gotta work...t'gether." John slowly looked around, paling even more as he did so. "Tey...la?"

It was the Satedan who answered. "She's gonna try to lead the searchers off to give us a better shot at making it to the gate undetected. She'll meet up with us there."

"Oh. Is that a good idea?" asked Rodney, clearly only now noticing her absence.

Ronon glared at him, though not quite the death-glare of earlier. "In this situation? Yeah." He didn't give Rodney a chance to question him further though, leaning forward and placing his hand gently on John's good shoulder. "We gotta go. This is gonna hurt," he warned.

John swallowed hard and closed his eyes a moment before nodding. "Do it," he ordered through clenched teeth.

The Satedan wasted no time in obliging him, grabbing him up into a fireman's carry before Rodney could even get this mouth open to protest. And while the move was fast, it had had been far from painless if Sheppard's choked off scream had been any indication. Ronon ignored it, knowing there was nothing to be done now but get the injured pilot to the gate as quickly as possible. He gave McKay a look that said he meant business in no uncertain terms, and prepared to set off. "Stay behind me, but stay close." He didn't wait for Rodney's answer; he simply pulled his blaster from its holster and set off, trusting McKay to do as instructed.

Rodney didn't need to be told twice. He pulled out his handgun and followed along behind, careful not to get too close but not lag behind either. He tried to be mindful of the noise, as Sheppard had been trying to teach him, but twigs snapped under his feet and branches whipped noisily back into place after he'd passed by. He could feel the big Satedan's irritation with him growing with every step he took, but if he was going to keep up as ordered then there was really nothing he could do differently.

To distract himself, McKay watched Sheppard's arms swing from side to side. The pilot's head bobbed, bumping against Ronon's back with every step, but Dex didn't seem to notice any of it as the trio made their way through the trees and brush of the forest. The movement had to be causing Sheppard ten different kinds of agony, but the colonel hadn't uttered so much as a sound since they'd set off. Rodney was pretty sure that meant he was unconscious again, but he wasn't certain if that was a good thing or not in the long run. As a feeling of total helplessness settled over him, Meredith Rodney McKay did the only thing he could under the circumstances.

He prayed hard and kept on walking.


	8. Chapter 8

Rodney was paying attention this time. So when Ronon raised his closed fist to signal a halt, McKay did exactly that and immediately dropped to a crouch. He also managed to wait for Ronon to speak first, even though it nearly killed him because the Satedan carefully laid Sheppard out on the ground before uttering a single word.

His expression was tense, his tone low but urgent when he finally leaned over to share his intentions with the scientist. "You stay here. I'm gonna scout ahead and make sure the Stargate's clear." He pointed to Rodney's sidearm. "Keep that ready and shoot anyone who comes near here. Anyone besides me or Teyla," he amended wryly. Before Rodney could snap out a snide reply, Dex turned and silently disappeared into the thick brush.

Now alone with the unconscious pilot, Rodney replaced his sidearm in its holster and set about pulling out what medical supplies he had left to tend Sheppard's wounds. He looked around warily, the woods having become unnaturally quiet and still. Somehow, he didn't think that was a very good sign. Shaking off his unease, McKay set about wiping the blood and sweat from his friend's face and neck. A number of the scrapes and abrasions had begun to bleed freely again after their little jaunt through the forest; thankfully most of the bandages on the deeper, larger wounds had stayed in place, which was a good thing as Rodney had nothing left to replace them with.

McKay froze as a loud thud echoed through the woods. It had barely died out when another sounded, and then another and another. Bodies, he thought. Hitting the ground. But whose? He tried to relax and keep to his task, telling himself that it was Ronon disposing of the opposition a man at a time, but somehow he just couldn't make himself believe it.

Somewhere in the middle of his internalized argument, he noticed the change in Sheppard's breathing. His shallow panting had taken on a wheezy, wet, rattling sound and each intake seemed to slow just that tiny bit more than its predecessor. And while Rodney wasn't a medical doctor, he knew enough to know that this was not a good development. Silently, he urged Ronon and Teyla to hurry and finish clearing the way before it was too late.

The snap of a twig nearby sounded unnaturally loud in the woods and had Rodney immediately reaching for his gun. He shot an anxious glance at Sheppard, praying his noisy breathing wouldn't give their position away. He barely had the sidearm halfway free of its holder when he caught sight of a pair of legs clad in tanned leather that had moved into his view. He froze, with only his eyes moving up the long legs to find a familiar faced framed by a mass of wild-looking dreadlocks.

He nearly slumped over in relief, but quickly made his displeasure known. "Would you stop with the heart-attack inducing dramatics already? The old ticker can't take much more of this you know," he warned. "Or do you really want two people to carry to the Stargate?"

Ronon ignored his histrionics and pointed at the half-drawn weapon. "I told you to keep that ready. What if I'd been a Mallarian?" he demanded angrily.

Rodney had his mouth open to reply, but nothing came out as the fact that woods had gone dead-silent sank in. No wheezing. No wet sounding rattling with every intake. No nothing. His eyes went wide as he stared up at Ronon, horrified. "Oh no," he finally stammered. "Oh nonono. Don't you dare do this to me--to us!" snarled Rodney, turning to Sheppard.

He placed his fingers at the pilot's neck, frantically searching for any sign of a beat, as Ronon stood glowering down at him. "McKay," growled the Satedan, his lips twisting into a menacing snarl.

Rodney said nothing, waving Dex off in irritation while he concentrated. At last, his shoulders slumped in relief. "He's not breathing. I got a pulse--barely--but it's there." He lifted his head, his expression tense. "Tell me you've got that Stargate clear and Teyla's standing by ready to dial out, because if we don't get him back to Beckett right now, and by that I mean in the next thirty seconds or less? Sheppard's dead."

The Satedan didn't hesitate. He tossed John over his shoulder like a rag doll and activated the radio even as he was moving toward the Stargate. "Dial it up and tell Beckett to be waiting. Sheppard's not breathing."

McKay didn't need to be told to follow. In the distance, he could hear the chevrons engaging as Teyla dialed. He silently urged his injured friend to fight even as they ran for the Stargate and help. _Come on, Sheppard, don't you dare quit on us now._

Then suddenly they were bursting through into the open meadow surrounding the open Stargate. Rodney expected Ronon to head straight to gate and into the wormhole, but instead the Satedan stopped dead in his tracks. Rodney couldn't stop in time and ran right into him again, and again bounced off to stumble and land flat on his backside.

His mouth fell open at the sight before him. At least thirty men had surrounded the dais where the open gate beckoned them. One held a gun to Teyla's head while two more flanked him, pinning her arms behind her. "Oh come on--you've got to be kidding me!" he complained.

McKay climbed to his feet, moving up next to Ronon. The Satedan had already found Lazzon, the Mallarian leader, and had his blaster aimed directly at the man's head. From what Rodney could see, it had been set to kill. Before he could speak up, Dex beat him to it. "We don't want no trouble here. Just let us take our friend home and no one else needs to get hurt," offered the Satedan. Rodney couldn't help but think it sounded far more like a warning than a proposal though.

Lazzon apparently agreed. "Do not threaten me, offworlder. I have you outnumbered ten-to-one. I hold your lovely companion here, as well. You are in no position to be making demands, much less threats."

Ronon's aim never wavered. "Oh that wasn't a threat," insisted the Satedan. "That was a fact." His eyes burned with intensity as he stared down his opponent. "And when I tell you that anyone touches a hair on her head and you die, that's not a threat either. That's a promise."

Rodney didn't think it possible, but Ronon's expression turned even more menacing. "But when I tell you that if my friend here, who got hurt flying your airplane, dies, then you die? Now that's a threat--and a promise."

"He crashed the plane; he deserves whatever happens to him! We were assured that he could successfully fly this plane, yet its remains are now scattered and burning all over Mischa's Meadow. Perhaps this is his punishment for lying to us!" accused Lazzon.

Rodney stepped forward before Ronon could stop him. "Um, excuse me, but that would be my fault, not his. I'm the one who caused the crash. I, um, did something--something purely unintentional, I assure you. So if you're going to blame someone, blame me. If you need someone to punish, punish me. Just, please, let him get Sheppard back to...our home. I'll stay here and accept whatever punishment you see fit to mete out."

"Rodney, no!" Teyla shook her head, daring her captors to try to stop her. "John would not want this."

"McKay," growled Ronon. "Get in back of me and shut up." The Satedan was succinct and to the point, holding nothing back.

Lazzon frowned. "How do I know this is the truth?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "I don't suppose you'd accept a very sincere 'because I said so'?" He didn't even give the Mallarian time to respond. "Look, what does it matter anyway? You want someone to hold responsible and I'm telling you that person is me, whether you want to accept it or not. So let the others go and I'll stay and submit to whatever consequences you deem appropriate."

The Mallarian stared at him, assessing the truth of his words. Finally, he nodded to a big ugly brute on his left. Before anyone could react, Big Ugly raised an odd-looking sort of crossbow-type thing and loosed a long, thin reed-like dart in Rodney's direction.

McKay looked down as the projectile hit home, burying itself in his chest. His eyes went wide as he stared down in shock. The next thing he knew, Teyla was beside him demanding that he tell her how he felt. "Fine," he told her. I feel fine." He looked up, noting the departing Mallarians. "Hey, where's everybody going?"

Lazzon stopped for a moment, looking at him with sadness and regret. "You have proclaimed your guilt in this matter and sentence has been passed. I'm sorry, Doctor McKay. I wish things had turned out differently." And then he left, the others following down the road back to the city.

Rodney watched them go for a moment. Then suddenly his eyes widened and turned to look for Ronon. The Satedan--along with Sheppard--were nowhere in sight. "Where's Sheppard? We have to get him back to Atlantis NOW!"

Teyla placed her arm around him and pulled him over toward the still-open wormhole. "Ronon has already taken him through to Doctor Beckett. Come, we should follow before the Stargate shuts down."

He nodded, allowing her to lead him to the stairs. "That was weird, them just letting us all go like that."

She patted his back gently. "Yes, quite it was quite strange."

Rodney had forgotten all about the dart in his chest until he looked down to climb the stairs. "Oh. I suppose this is probably why." He turned to face her then, grabbing hold of both her arms, his eyes wide and wild. "You don't think it has citrus on it, do you? I mean, how could they possibly know about that?"

Teyla smiled at him. "I am quite certain that there is no citrus on it, Rodney. Are you feeling ill? Is that why you ask?"

"What? Oh, right. No, no I feel just fine. A little winded from all that running and confused by them letting us all go, but otherwise okay." He turned and took the first stair, but stopped and almost immediately grabbed her arms again. "Why did you ask me that? Do I not look okay? I'm not like, turning weird colors or anything, am I?"

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head at him. "No, Rodney, you look fine. I was merely inquiring as to your health, that is all." She pulled him up the final few stairs and headed toward the shimmering puddle of the Stargate. "We should hurry and see what news Carson has of John."

"Right. Sheppard. Messy hair, a little taller than me, alien-babe-magnet, has the uber-strength magic gene." Rodney kept mumbling nonsense right up until they reached the wormhole.

Teyla paused a moment, taking in his unfocused eyes. He was also now sweating furiously, his face growing redder by the minute, and fine tremors had begun to run throughout his entire body. Alarmed, she stepped into the glowing wormhole, anxiously pulling him with her.


	9. Chapter 9

By the time they stepped through into Atlantis, Rodney was in deep trouble. He tried to ask about the others, but he couldn't seem to form the words. His legs were tired and heavy, but he stubbornly pushed on, his need to find out what was happening with Sheppard driving him. Unfortunately, he barely made it a handful of steps before he sank to his knees, his legs unable to hold him up any longer.

The next thing he knew, he found himself lying on the floor of the gateroom, staring up at the familiar ceiling and watching in morbid fascination as it seemed to shift and wiggle above him. Elizabeth's face appeared above him, blocking his view of the dancing ceiling so he watched her instead. She was calling for a medical team and her voice sounded urgent and yet far away at the same time. Probably for Sheppard, he thought dazedly.

Teyla's face appeared next to Elizabeth's, assuring him that the doctor would be here shortly and that he would be just fine. He wanted to snort at that, but couldn't get his muscles to cooperate at all. It was becoming rather annoying, truth be told. Of course he'd be fine--he wasn't the one who had fallen out of the sky without a parachute. Well, okay, so Sheppard had had help falling, help that Rodney had supplied, but still, the principle was the same. Wasn't it?

His vision greyed out, but when he opened his eyes Teyla and Elizabeth were still there. Their heads were doing a weird little trick where they melded together into one and then rippled apart again. It was rather mesmerizing, truth be told. They looked worried, too. Must be it was painful, he thought.

His vision greyed again. This time when things cleared and the colors returned, there were a lot more faces surrounding him, hovering above like vultures waiting to swoop down and eat him. He didn't like that thought and wanted to leave, to chase them away and make them scatter, but his muscles still refused to work. The floating heads were talking to him now, but he couldn't make out any of the words. Damn it, why weren't they speaking English? English was a requirement for all expedition members and they were supposed to use it. He really needed to see about having them all fired as soon as he could get his muscles to work again.

His eyes went wide as one of the floaty-heads held up a long, clear snake. He tried desperately to take back the having-them-fired part, but his mouth still wasn't working. Helpless, he could do nothing but watch, horrified, as the snake was lowered to his chest. He tried to scream, but he couldn't do that either. He worked desperately to make his arms move, to grab the serpent and throw it as far as he could, but they were no more responsive than his vocal chords. Then the next thing he knew, the snake was slithering its way into his mouth and down his throat. He screamed and screamed, but the noise stubbornly stayed only in his head. Terrified, he called out for Carson or Teyla or Elizabeth, but the words would not leave his mouth and none of them appeared.

Finally, he could stand no more. His eyes rolled back in his head and the world went black, but still Rodney continued to scream inside his head.


	10. Chapter 10

"Carson?" Elizabeth slowly approached the doctor, almost afraid of what he might tell her.

Beckett looked up from the chart he was studying, standing near the foot of one of the two occupied infirmary beds. In it lay Rodney McKay, his face nearly hidden by the tube of the ventilator. In the other bed across the room, John Sheppard was still being settled after an extended visit to the OR, a matching tube breathing for him also. He smiled wearily at her, still dressed in his scrubs, and she felt the knot in her stomach loosen just a smidgen. "Elizabeth. I was just about to call you."

She nodded, still apprehensive. "I was just coming to check on Rodney when I heard that you'd finally finished with the surgery. How are they doing?" As much as she dreaded the coming report, she needed to hear it just as much.

Carson replaced the tablet at the end of the bed and steered her away from the bed. "The colonel is doing quite well, all things considered. His knee and ankle were merely sprained, not broken. He's also got quite the concussion, but so far we're not seeing any sign of complications and I'm not expecting there will be any down the line. His shoulder was dislocated, but Ronon did a fine job of getting it back into place and, again, I don't expect any problems there."

Beckett paused to look over as the nurses straightened John's blanket, having finished rechecking IV's and various other connections and monitors. "There were some internal injuries, however, that are giving us a wee bit o' cause for concern. He managed to break four of his ribs. Two of those punctured a lung and made a right mess of his insides. We've managed to stop the bleeding, but we'll be keeping a very, very close eye on him for the next while. He'll need to be on the vent for several days, possibly longer."

"But he'll be okay," she prompted, needing to hear Carson say the words she wanted to badly to hear.

The doctor threw another worried glance over at the injured pilot. "I'll na lie to ye, Elizabeth. He's far from out o' the woods here. Right now, it could easily go either way."

She drew in a deep breath, forcing herself to move on. She had to know it all. "Ronon said he wasn't breathing for several minutes before they were able to gate back. What about brain damage?" She braced herself for the answer, even now not certain how she'd handle bad news on this particular front.

Carson sighed. "Well, it's too early to tell for certain, mind ye, but so far there's no sign of anything amiss. I wish I had a more definite answer for ye, but I'm afraid we're just going to have to wait until he regains consciousness before we know anything more in that regard."

She drew a deep breath, nodding as she fought to keep her emotions in check. Not nearly the news she was hoping for, but pretty much the news she was expecting. "I see," she said. "And Rodney?" Though she was almost afraid to ask, she knew it was best to get it all out in the open. Besides, the others were going to want to know.

"I've only just now had a quick glance at his chart, but it appears he's doing well, or at least as well as can be expected under the circumstances. I was informed that Doctor Grayson has isolated the substance on the dart, but it's not likely we'll be finding an antidote anytime soon. It's quite unlike anything we've ever encountered, from what I hear. There is a bit of good news, however, in that it seems to break down fairly quickly once it's through the bloodstream. We expect it will work its way out of his system fairly rapidly, but until then, we'll continue to treat his symptoms as best we can, including keeping him on the vent until the paralysis has passed. From what Doctor Grayson says, we can expect that to happen sometime within the next twelve hours or so." The weary Scot's eyes were drawn to the annoying physicist's bed as he continued. "It's a good thing Teyla was able to get him back here so quickly. If they'd been delayed any longer, I fear we might well have lost him this time."

Her gaze had followed Carson's to the prickly scientist's still form. It was all she could do to keep from shuddering at the rhythmic click and hiss of the machine as it breathed for him. "Well that sounds encouraging, at least. How soon before he can have visitors?" Elizabeth knew well that there were two very anxious teammates waiting outside for news about both men.

Beckett hesitated, sighing. "I don't suppose it would matter to them that neither of these two will be awake or able to speak to them for hours, possibly even days yet, would it?"

She smiled, shaking her head. "I'd highly doubt it."

He returned her smile with a wry grin of his own. "I didn't think so. Ye can tell them that I'll send Jamie here to fetch them as soon as we have the colonel a wee bit more settled. That's the best I can do for now."

"I'll tell them. And I'm sure they appreciate everything you're doing." After a final look at each of the injured men, she left to deliver the news.


	11. Chapter 11

When Rodney next opened his eyes, the world around him was a blur of nondescript blobs, mostly white and grey. He blinked, trying to bring it all into focus, but the blobs stubbornly remained fuzzy and indistinct.

Each breath came faster than the last as he tried to recall where he was and how he'd gotten here. He remembered the room full of Ancient consoles and finding the ZPM first. The excitement was quickly quashed by the image of the message on the screen, proclaiming in Ancient that the target had been destroyed. Then the sick realization that the target had been Sheppard.

The dam seemed to break then, with images flashing through his head like a movie in fast-forward. The trek to the crash site and finding only one familiar black boot in the burning rubble. Ronon's terse call and the realization that he'd found Sheppard and that the pilot was alive. The race up the hill to find that the colonel was indeed alive, but not conscious. Fleeing the search parties and the desperate race for the gate, only for Sheppard to stop breathing while Ronon was off clearing their way. The relief at hearing Teyla dialing the gate as the Satedan threw the pilot over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and the dash to get him back to Atlantis in time. Getting to the gate only to find Lazzon there and holding Teyla hostage. Offering to stay if they'd just let the others get Sheppard back to Atlantis. The dart coming out of nowhere and looking down with morbid fascination to see it sticking in his chest.

Things were a less clear after that. He did remember Teyla telling him that there was no citrus on it, but he couldn't recall going back through the gate for anything. He remembered laying on the floor in the gateroom and the ceiling doing weird tricks. And Elizabeth and Teyla leaning over him, their heads doing a bizarre merging thing. And then they were gone and the floaty-heads came.

Oh God. The floaty-heads. He shot up in the bed, clawing at the sheets as he tried to free his legs and run. An alarm sounded nearby, but Rodney was too lost in the memories to pay it any mind. His hands went to his neck as he recalled the snake and how it crawled into his mouth and down his throat. "Get it out," he rasped, his mouth dry and his throat raw. He had no idea if anyone was nearby or could hear him, but he was beyond caring. "OhGodohGodohGod, please help me! Get it out! Please!"

Hands grabbed him, pushing him back to the mattress. Rodney fought them, kicking and lashing out for all he was worth. But they were too strong and he quickly found himself laying flat again. "Help me," he pleaded, his voice rough and hoarse. "Please."

"Easy, Rodney. Here, I want ye to take a sip of this; it will help your throat."

McKay recognized the voice immediately. "Carson! OhthankGod!" He sucked down enough of the water to soothe the fire in his throat and promptly grabbed Beckett's arm in a death-grip. "You gotta help me! Please, you have to get it out of me," he begged.

"I'm sorry, Rodney, but we're going to have to leave it in for the time being. You're not quite strong enough for it to come out yet." The Scot patted him on the shoulder sympathetically.

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "No! No, way. I'm fine, aside from having that-that-that thing in me. You've got to get it out--and if you don't I'll find someone who will," he threatened. "Please, Carson! Please."

Beckett sighed, shaking his head. "Look, Rodney, I know how uncomfortable the catheter can be, and I'm sorry, but you're going to have to put up with it for a wee bit longer. I'll remove it the moment your test results tell me you're well enough, I promise. Just...buck up and deal with as best ye can for now."

Rodney stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "What do catheters have to do with anything?" he asked incredulously. "I'm talking about the snake!"

It was now Carson's turn to stare. "Snake? What on Earth are ye on about now?"

Exasperated, McKay tried to explain. "The snake! The clear one that the floaty-heads put down...my...throat...um, okay, I admit it sounds a little...odd. But it happened, I swear it did!"

"Oh, I've no doubt ye believe it did," assured the Scot. "Precisely when and where did this all happen, if ye don't mind me asking?"

He didn't hesitate with his answer. "In the gate room. Right after we got back. I think. No, no, I'm sure. It was in the gate room right after we got back. I was going to go...somewhere...to do...something. And-and then I was on the floor and the ceiling was doing this weird wavy-thing and Teyla and Elizabeth were there, but they were doing this really cool head-merging thing, and that's when the floaty-heads showed up with the snake and they put it in my mouth and then it was in my throat and I couldn't breathe and-and..."

"Rodney!" Carson interrupted the tirade before the physicist degenerated into a serious bout of hyperventilating. "Listen to me! There was no snake. The med team had to intubate you. The substance on the dart you were shot with caused a number of symptoms, including total paralysis and hallucinations. It didn't happen, as least not the way you remember it."

"But I saw..."

"No, Rodney, you didn't. Not really."

"You're sure?"

"Aye, that I am."

"Oh." McKay frowned, knowing he was forgetting something important. Something really important. He tried to think, but the hiss and click of a ventilator nearby was making it impossible. His hand instinctively went to his throat, still sore from his own stint on the machine, and he wondered who the unlucky soul was that needed it to breathe for them.

He'd no sooner finished the thought than it all became clear again and he knew. His eyes went wide and his heart began to pound as he turned to Carson. "Oh God, I killed him! I killed him, Carson. I killed Sheppard!"

Beckett shook his head and pulled back the curtain. "Calm down, Rodney. I told ye, your memories of what happened after you were hit by the dart are not real. The colonel's not dead; he's right over there in the next bed."

Rodney shook his head adamantly. "No! No, you don't understand. It was before the dart--he didn't want to do it, but I made him and then he while he was up there flying it I couldn't wait and I had to go find the ruins and I brought it online and there was a ZPM and then all the sudden there was an alarm and it kept flashing that same message and it said "Target Destroyed" and the only thing in the sky was Sheppard's plane so I knew it had to be him and-and-and it just kept flashing that damn message at me and-and-and then Conan came and he was really mad because I killed Sheppard and he wanted to kill me, but Teyla wouldn't let him and so we went to the wreckage and I found it, I found his boot and-and-and..."

"Rodney, stop! I'm sure ye had no intention of hurting Colonel Sheppard, did ye?" Carson signaled a nurse to come over and quietly sent her off to fetch a sedative, but McKay continued rambling.

"Of course not! But it's my fault--can't you see that? If I'd only waited until after he landed--or better yet, if I hadn't forced him into it in the first place...but I did and then he did and I made him crash and-and-and then Conan found him, but he was hurt really bad and then we had to run because the Mallards were coming and I told him we should move him, especially not like that because Teyla said his ribs were broken but we had to because there was no time and so we ran and we ran and then we stopped and then Conan disappeared and him and Xena cleared the way to the gate a-and then he came back but Sheppard stopped breathing and we had to run for the gate again and-and-and when we got there the bad guys had Teyla and-and-and I told them! I told them it was my fault and they had to let the others go..."

Rodney finally paused to catch a breath, suddenly finding it more and more difficult to keep his eyes open. "Wha'?" He blinked then, forcing his eyes to stay open as he glared at Beckett. "Y-you dr'g me," he accused, his words beginning to slur.

"Aye, that I did. Ye wouldn't listen to me and calm yerself, so I had to take matters into ma own hands. Ye need to take it easy, Rodney. Ye've just been through a terrible ordeal, both mentally and physically. Sleep now and we'll talk again later."

Rodney allowed his eyes to close and as he drifted off, he swore to himself that there was no way he was going to dream of tall lanky Air Force colonels--and especially not of them falling from the sky after he'd shot them down.


	12. Chapter 12

There was nothing he could do but watch helplessly from above as John Sheppard fell from the sky. He looked down, horrified to find the trees coming up to meet them at an alarming rate. And then suddenly he was Sheppard and the trees caught him, slamming their branches into his body and tearing at every inch of exposed skin. Small branches grew ever larger, until limbs as big around as his thigh--or larger--were battering him. And then he saw the ground, rushing up to meet him at an incredible speed. He screamed, but no sound came out of his mouth, and still the ground kept coming. He tried to put his arms over his head to protect himself, but he couldn't make them move. He could see each leaf, each pebble, each clump of dirt clearly now as he continued to fall. And then there was impact.

Rodney gasped, his eyes flying open as his heart tried to beat its way out of his chest. A dream, he realized. It had all been a dream. Movement caught the corner of his eye and turned to look, stunned at the sight of John Sheppard standing next to his bed, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.

"Oh thank God! You're okay," marveled Rodney. He relaxed back into his pillow, closing his eyes to savor the welcome realization that it had all been a horrible, horrible nightmare.

Sheppard snorted. "If you call this okay," he said accusingly.

McKay cracked open one eye to look at him warily. "You're up and around, walking, talking, breathing, without even a scratch on you. What else would you call it?"

"No, I'm not," insisted Sheppard.

"Not what?" Rodney, still shaken by the dream, was a little slow on the uptake.

"You're supposed to be a genius; figure it out."

Annoyed, he opened both eyes, squinting to get a good look at the pilot as he checked off each point. "You're standing upright here without any difficulty, so up and around. Walking, check. Talking, yet another check..." His eyes widened in alarm as he took in the stillness of Sheppard's chest. "Oh my God! You-you-you're not breathing," he squeaked.

"Give the man a cigar," drawled Sheppard. "Of course I'm not breathing. I'm dead." His eyes glittered with anger. "I'm dead because YOU killed me."

Rodney's heart was again trying to beat its way out of his chest. "B-but I didn't know...I would never have..." He turned anguished eyes to his dead friend. "I-I-I didn't mean it--I swear I didn't mean for it to happen!"

John threw his hands up in the air, his face growing even darker. "Oh well, that makes all the difference then, doesn't it? He didn't mean it, so hey, so what if John Sheppard is DEAD? It's all okay because RODNEY MCKAY didn't mean for it to happen." The not-breathing Sheppard began to pace. "You were supposed to be my friend, Rodney! Well some friend you turned out to be! I'm dead, McKay--I'm dead and it's all YOUR fault!"

"No!" insisted Rodney. "No, this can't be happening! You were alive and we brought you back and Carson fixed you. You can't be dead." His voice grew smaller with each word. "You can't."

"Well I am--and you killed me. What kind of friend does something like that anyway, Rodney?"

"A bad one?" offered the physicist tentatively.

Dead-Sheppard wasn't amused. "No, McKay. A real friend doesn't kill people who are his friends--period! So I guess I know how you really feel about me after all this time, don't I?"

"NO! Don't you say that! I-I-I totally suck at the whole friends-thing, I freely admit that--but don't you EVER say that I did not care!"

The deceased colonel smiled malevolently. "Fine, then prove it."

"What? How?" asked McKay dubiously.

Dead-Sheppard made a show of pretending to think the matter over before responding. "Well now, the way I see it, if you were a real friend, you would gladly give exactly what you took from me--a life for life."

Rodney swallowed hard, not liking where the conversation appeared to be heading. "Um, uh, I don't know...I mean, I'm not sure..."

"You trying to weasel out of it?" demanded the colonel. "Because that would mean this whole friends-thing, as you so aptly put it, was nothing but a load of crap. Is that what you're saying, Rodney?"

"No! I-I was just wondering...how..." McKay couldn't bring himself to say the words.

"Oh don't worry," assured Dead-Sheppard. "I'll make sure it's fast and painless--even though my own death was anything but."

Rodney swallowed hard, knowing he was out of options. "Okay! All right. I admit it, I deserve this. I just..." His eyes widened at the large knife that Dead-Sheppard had pulled from his belt and was now holding over McKay's chest. Rodney's words died in his throat as the knife descended toward his heart, time having slowed to a crawl as he lay there helpless, waiting for the strike that would end his life. His heart pounded as he watched it come closer and closer, until finally, it plunged deep into his chest.

"Rodney!"

He could barely hear the voice calling his name over the screams that filled the air. There was a sharp sting on his cheek as Rodney's eyes popped open to reveal the worried face of Carson Beckett above him. He closed his mouth and the screams died away as he desperately gulped in air, shivering uncontrollably.

Carson reached for McKay's wrist, checking his pulse as he subtly observed the physicist. "Feeling a wee bit better now?"

Rodney nodded, but said nothing as he concentrated on breathing.

"Care to talk about it?" Though his tone was casual, there was no missing the Scot's concern--or his desire for his patient to comply.

McKay shook his head, closing his eyes and laying back as Beckett went about checking him over. The click and hiss of the ventilator nearby seemed to grow louder and louder, until finally he could stand the noise no more.

"I had a dream," he blurted out. "Well, more of a nightmare, really. I-I watched Sheppard falling from the sky after the crash and then suddenly I was Sheppard and the trees were coming at me really, really fast a-and I hit the ground but then I woke up, only I wasn't really awake at all. I was still dreaming, but in the dream I opened my eyes and Sheppard was there and-and he was okay--or at least I thought he was okay, but then we were talking and I found out that he wasn't okay at all because he was dead because I killed him which of course made him angry so he wanted me to pay him back for what I took from him and then he had this knife a-a-and-and he held it over me and-and then it was coming at me but I couldn't move and then it..." He shuddered violently, unable to get the words out to describe how it had felt when the knife had entered his chest.

"Easy there," soothed Carson, placing his hand supportively on McKay's shoulder. "Well that was quite the dream now, wasn't it? Lucky we both know something like that could never, ever happen for real."

Rodney didn't answer him, instead turning his head away. The constant clicking and hissing noises served as a constant reminder that John Sheppard, his friend, lay in a nearby bed fighting for his life with every forced breath of air. It wasn't right that the colonel was still near death while Rodney was well on his way to recovery. Oh, Beckett hadn't said so, but his reluctance to provide any information the pilot certainly spoke volumes in his book.

Carson squeezed his shoulder, his voice full of concern. "Rodney? What's eatin' at ye?"

McKay's chin lifted in defiance. "Who says there's anything bothering me? For your information, it's the middle of the night and I'm tired, that's all."

"Aye, downright exhausted, I'd venture to guess. I suppose I'll leave ye be so ye can get back to sleep then." Beckett patted his shoulder and patted his shoulder one final time. "Sleep well, Rodney; I'll be back to check on ye around breakfast time."

He'd barely taken two steps away when Rodney stopped him. "Don't go!" McKay tried to down play his over-reaction, not wanting to admit that he was still to shaken to be alone. "I mean, now that you're here, you could stay awhile. If you wanted to, I mean. We could...talk...or...something."

Carson turned around, not appearing to be at all surprised by the sudden change of heart. He pulled a chair up to the bedside and took a seat. "All right, Rodney. What shall we talk about?" he asked, folding his hands casually over his midsection.

And there it was, Rodney realized. The perfect opening. He opened his mouth to begin the conversation, but no words could come out. His heart was pounding for fear of what the Scot would tell him, but he had to know and so he forced himself to reach deep within to find the strength to speak the words. "H-how's Sheppard?" There, it was done, he thought, his anguished eyes lifting to meet Carson's as he waited for the news.

Beckett nodded, his expression telling Rodney that he'd been expecting the question. "He's doing well, all things considered," he hedged. "There was internal bleeding and a punctured lung, which we've managed to repair through surgery."

McKay was now recovered and alert enough that he immediately picked up on the Scot's hesitation. "So what are you not saying? And don't try to tell me nothing or gloss over it, either. I know you and I know that look. And it's telling me that there's bad news that you're trying very hard to keep from me. So just spill it already and save us both the time and me the effort of having to pry it out of you."

The Scot was silent for a long time, staring down at his knee and picking at the fabric of his scrubs. Finally he raised his head, looking Rodney in the eye as he spoke. "He's in a bad way, Rodney. It could very easily go either way. We nearly lost him on the table twice and again no more than an hour ago. We've managed to bring him back each time so far, but..."

He hitched back a sob at Beckett's confirmation of his fears. Staring up at the ceiling, he fought back the tears as he attempted to process the news. Carson didn't push him to talk, allowing him the time to gather his thoughts, but Rodney's mind was in a whirl as his thoughts flitted from one disjointed memory to another of the most screwed up mission in the history of all missions.

Visions of Sheppard's face flowed through his mind like a fast-moving stream. It started with the image of him pale underneath all the scratches when Ronon called them up the hill. Then came the briefing room and the trademark smirk when they traded barbs. After that he was standing in the council chamber when they were arguing over Rodney's offer that John test-pilot their damn airplane. Next came the look of pure joy that Sheppard always wore when he was flying. Then it was back to the forest after the crash and his features were drawn, scrunched as tightly as possible from the pain of his injuries. Finally, it was back to the council room and the look of trust in those hazel eyes that would now haunt him until his dying day.

Rodney's anguished eyes met Beckett's sympathetic gaze. "Oh God, Carson, I killed him. I killed Sheppard."

The Scot shook his head, not hesitating for an instant. "Ye've done no such thing, ye bloody fool. In case it's escaped your notice, Colonel Sheppard is not dead." Carson rose and yanked the curtain separating McKay's bed from the rest of the infirmary ward. "He's right over there and he's still breathing. And if there's one thing I've learned about John Sheppard since I've come to have the pleasure, it's that he's a fighter. He's proven time and time again that he does not know the meaning of the words 'give up'. So as long as the man is still breathing, I'll not be counting him out--and neither should you."

McKay watched Sheppard, listening to the click and hiss of the machine as it breathed for his friend. Rodney couldn't see him all that well with all the various monitors, machines, tubes, and wires surrounding him. He looked back to Carson with tears in his eyes and an angry expression on his face. "Is he? Because from what I can see, he's not really breathing at all. Your damn machine is doing it for him," he said accusingly.

Beckett's eyes narrowed. "I won't pretend to know why ye're so determined to take responsibility for this, but I'll not sit here and listen to you bury the man before he's truly gone. He's got a helluva fight on his hands if he's to survive, yes, but you know as well as anyone--even better than most, I'd say--that if there's one thing John Sheppard does well, it's survive against impossible odds."

"I activated the machine that shot him down!" Rodney's voice was loud and carried through the entire ward. "If I had only waited..." His eyes drifted again over to the bed where Sheppard lay. "Or better yet, if I hadn't talked him into flying the damn plane in the first place..."

Carson's tsk-tsking drew his attention back to the Scot. "Och, ye should know better than that, Rodney. Ye cannot live your life always wondering about the 'what ifs' for every action ye take. No good can come of it--you'll remain stuck in the past and unable to ever move forward."

"That's easy for you to say--you're not the one responsible for Sheppard's accident, hence it won't be your fault when he dies!" Rodney knew he was being unreasonable, but he couldn't seem to stop himself as he worked up to another long--and loud--rant.

"Lower your voice," demanded Beckett, his tone low but threatening. "If ye cannot get hold of yourself, I'll have no choice but to sedate ye." He paused long enough to be certain that he was getting through to the physicist. Once he was sure he had McKay's attention, he continued. "Now then, as ye lie here waiting to fall back to sleep, think on this. Colonel Sheppard needs his friends' full support--all of them--if he is indeed going to pull this one out. So I'll not have ye sitting next to his bedside spouting your gloom and doom. If ye want to see the man once ye're out of here, then I'd suggest ye find a way to stop feeling sorry for yourself and start believing in your friend."

Rodney was about to argue, but realized from the look on Carson's face that he was completely serious. He abruptly closed his mouth and turned his head to watch John. It was his fault that Sheppard had been injured and nothing would change that. But he also owed it to Sheppard to be there when the end finally came. He made up his mind then and there that he'd play Beckett's little game--even if he couldn't make himself really believe it. He turned back to the doctor. "Fine, you win. I'll be Mr. Positive and jump through all your little hoops, but just so you know, I have every intention of staying right next to his side until he does finally wake up."

Carson looked like he wanted to argue, but instead hedged around the point. "We'll talk about that later. Right now ye need sleep. Will ye be all right or do ye need a little help? Nothing strong, mind ye, just enough to help ye drift off again."

Suddenly feeling very tired, McKay shook his head. "I don't need any help." He closed his eyes, but he could feel Beckett watching him. Determined not to give in, he ignored the doctor and focused on breathing evenly. And before he knew it, Rodney was again asleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Rodney sighed and again leaned forward, trying to stretch out some of the kinks in his back. Carson had released him over a week ago. Eight long and seemingly endless days ago, in fact. Days he'd spent listening to that damnable hissing and clicking of the respirator as it inflated Sheppard's lungs over and over. Days he'd spent certain that his friend would die.

Beckett had tried to wean the pilot off the blasted thing two days after Rodney had been released. It had appeared that the colonel had finally turned the corner. But Sheppard had almost immediately spiked a fever and been placed right back on the vent. Pneumonia, according to the Scott. He'd said something about John's lungs being too weak and then went on to explain in excruciating detail what exactly was happening, but by the third sentence Rodney had stopped listening. All it really amounted to was that Sheppard was going to die after all. Or so he'd thought.

But Carson had been right. Sheppard was nothing if not resilient and here they were close to a week later with him again weaned off of the hated machine. Oh they were still pumping him full of extra-strong antibiotics, along with heaven only knew what else, but there he was, laying in the bed and breathing on his own. He still had a fever, but it wasn't nearly as high as that first awful night. The rattling and wheezing noises when he tried to breathe had been bad enough, but the incoherent rambling that had accompanied it had nearly been too much for Rodney. Though Sheppard still had a nasty sounding cough, the noisy breathing was no longer in evidence.

According to Beckett, Sheppard could and should awaken at any moment. Rodney had been true to his word and not once left the man's bedside. Well, not willingly, at any rate. The meddling Scot had managed to pry him away twice, though.

The first time Carson had attempted to chase him out, he'd even gone so far as to have him bodily removed, ordering Radek to lock him in his quarters and shut him out of the city's network. That had lasted all of five minutes until he'd managed to hack into the mainframe through a backdoor that only he'd known about and over-ride the lock. He'd gone straight back to Sheppard's bedside, glaring at the Scot and daring him to try it again. Carson had literally thrown his hands up and stomped off, seemingly admitting defeat. Rodney realized now that he really should have known better.

After that Beckett had begun ordering Rodney's meals sent to the infirmary along with the other patients' trays--which had led to the second incident. Only yesterday, the Scot had informed him that John was improving and that he'd soon be coming off the respirator again. He'd asked Rodney to take a break and stretch out in the next bed for awhile; Rodney, of course, had promptly and flatly refused. After the last fiasco when they'd removed the vent, he simply wasn't taking any chances. Beckett had seemed to capitulate and let the matter drop, but the sneaky physician had slipped a sedative into his food at dinner. Rodney was still kicking himself for not having seen that one coming a mile away.

He leaned his head back on the chair and stared at the ceiling. While he'd been sleeping off the drugged food in the next bed, the tube had been removed from Sheppard's throat and he was now breathing on his own. It seemed he was going manage to beat the odds yet again, but Rodney couldn't let his guard down. Not after the last time.

He snuck another look over at the slumbering pilot, alternating between Sheppard-watching and ceiling-staring until he could stand the silence no longer. "I've been sitting in this damn chair for nearly 8 days straight waiting for you to come out of it. The least you could do is be suitably grateful and wake up to thank me properly, you know. My ass is never going to be the same after this."

"More than I needed to know," came the raspy reply. "But thank you."

Rodney continued to stare up at the ceiling. "You're welcome. Now why don't you...hey! You're awake," said the physicist, sitting bolt upright in the chair.

John's reply was cut off by a coughing fit. Rodney quickly grabbed the cup of crushed ice next to the bed and carefully fed the pilot a spoonful. Sheppard closed his eyes to savor the moisture. When it was gone, his voice still sounded just as raspy as before. "More," he demanded.

Rodney hesitated. "I don't know, Beckett said you shouldn't have too much." John glared at him and he instantly caved. "Fine, but you're going to be the one explaining this when he finds out, not me." He carefully spooned another bit of ice into his friend's mouth.

"He also said that ye were to call right away when the Colonel woke up. Convenient how ye forgot that part of it."

Ice went everywhere as McKay jumped close to a foot in the air. "Geez, what is with people trying to give me a heart attack! Have I not spent enough time in your clutches lately? And for your information, I was just getting ready to call you."

Carson just shook his head and stepped up to John's bedside. "I see ye've decided to join us once again. Ye seem a lot more aware this time; how are ye feeling?"

"Other than cold, wet, and half-drowned, you mean?"

"Oh ha ha," complained McKay. "You can thank the Scottish Wonder there for that one. If he hadn't snuck up on us like that, it wouldn't have happened."

John smirked, shivering slightly. "He's wearing his squeaky shoes, McKay. They probably heard him coming all the way over on the other side of the city."

Rodney folded his arms across his chest and stuck his chin out defiantly. "It was NOT my fault!"

"It never is," said Sheppard, chuckling.

Rodney went deathly pale. His first instinct was to run, but he knew that putting off the inevitable wouldn't really help in the long run. "I'm sorry," he said in a small voice. "I can leave if you'd like."

"No, I would not like," answered John, obviously confused by the scientist's behavior.

Carson stepped in before Sheppard could question him about his behavior, so Rodney hung back in silence and let the physician proceed with the exam. "All right now, let's try it again. How are ye feeling? Other than cold and wet--and by the way, I'll have Lyn come and change the bedding as soon as we're finished here."

John appeared to think about it before answering. "Bit of a headache, ribs are a little sore, and throat's a bit raw." He had to pause for a coughing fit, though Rodney didn't think cough was nearly as bad as it had been before Sheppard had had to go back on the vent again. "What happened this time anyway?" demanded the pilot, once he'd recovered his breath.

Beckett didn't answer him as he continued his exam and took note of monitor readouts. Rodney decided there wasn't going to be a better opening and ended his silent observance. "You...I...there-there was a crash..."

Sheppard frowned. "I crashed a jumper? Wait--was anyone else hurt? Ronon? Teyla?"

"Ye were not flying a jumper," snapped Beckett, glaring at Rodney with a look that promised retribution later. "And Ronon and Teyla are both fine. It was an experimental plane ye were flying, from what I gather."

John nodded, some of the details beginning to return. "Right. The Kittyhawk-plane. I agreed to a test flight in return for access to the Ancient site." He frowned again, looking directly at McKay. "I thought you said it was safe."

"It was!" Too many long days waiting and too many sleepless nights caused Rodney to break. "While you were up there flying, Teyla...I decided to go find the structure where the energy readings were emanating from. Teyla went with me and kept watch. Once we...I got inside and brought it online, an automated defense system came online as well. So anyway, I, um... it was totally unintentional, I SWEAR!"

Sheppard was staring at him like he'd grown another head. "What are you saying, McKay?"

Rodney fought the urge to turn tail and run as fast and as far as he could. He swallowed hard and bit the bullet, pointing at himself as he spoke. "That it was, um, me. Er, my fault, that is. I, um, sort of, shot...down...your plane."

John looked over at Carson, not certain he'd heard right. "Did he just say that he shot down my plane?" he demanded angrily.

Beckett stepped back, glaring at each of them in turn. "The bloody fool has been going on about how he killed you ever since he woke up. But before ye condemn him, Colonel, I'd like ye to think about this: Rodney has not hardly left your side since he was released himself. I tried locking him in his room to make him rest, but that barely lasted for 5 minutes. I finally had to resort to sedating him. He's been very, very worried about you, and not because he felt responsible. Ye know as well as I do that he'd never intentionally harm any of ye."

John's eyes narrowed as he looked Rodney over with a critical eye. "Released? What were you in here for?"

When Rodney didn't answer, Carson rolled his eyes and again stepped in. "Rodney was shot with a poisoned dart trying to persuade the Mallorians to allow Ronon bring ye home. If Teyla hadn't gotten him back when she did..."

Sheppard raised an eyebrow, looking quizzically at the physicist. "Rodney?" he asked expectantly, drawing out the name.

McKay crossed his arms. "Well you weren't breathing anymore and-and-and if we didn't find a way to get you back to Carson there would have been brain damage...er, even more than normal, I mean. But anyway, this big goon had Teyla so Ronon was getting all macho and trying to start a pissing contest, so someone had to be the voice of reason and try to negotiate."

"You? The voice of reason? You negotiated?" Sheppard was dubious at best, by the tone of his voice.

Rodney was indignant. "Yes, yes I did. And quite effectively, I might add."

"If you were so effective, how did you end up getting shot with a poisoned dart?" The colonel was clearly not buying it at all.

"Oh, that," said McKay. "Well, I-I told them that I was the one responsible for the plane crashing and that you weren't at fault and if they let you go then I'd be willing to submit to whatever punishment they saw fit to mete out. And then the Boss Man..." Rodney snapped his fingers, trying to remember the name. "Um, Lazy...Lazy...something, anyway he nodded at the Big Goon standing next to the Big Goon who was holding Teyla and he shot me with the poisoned dart and then...and then...well, actually, I'm not really sure what happened after that. It all gets a little fuzzy from then on."

John began to laugh. "Only you, McKay. Only you."

"Only me what?" demanded Rodney, sensing he was being made fun of yet again.

Still chuckling, Sheppard didn't hesitate to elaborate. "Only you could go from fall-guy to hero in the blink of an eye."

The good-natured ribbing was interrupted by another bout of coughing, which prompted Carson to step in. "All right, I think that's enough for now. It's time the colonel got some rest--and you, too, Rodney. Now that ye've seen he's going to be all right, I want you to go have a good hot meal and then sleep for a minimum of eight hours."

"But you heard him--I'm the hero," complained McKay. "And besides, I barely just woke up from that little nap I had courtesy of your little doctored-food trick."

"Give it up, Rodney. You won't win anyway," advised Sheppard, now recovered from the coughing.

"Food, sleep, and then maybe I'll allow ye back in for another visit. But only after ye've eaten and rested," warned the Scot.

Admitting defeat, Rodney caved. "Fine. Can I at least say goodbye?"

Beckett looked at his watch. "Ye've got five minutes. I'm going to go see if we have the the colonel's latest lab results back yet and when I return, ye'd best not be here."

Rodney nodded, and then watched as Carson walked away. Sheppard's raspy voice quickly garnered his attention, however. "You really okay now? No...lingering effects from the poison?"

"I'm fine. Though my chest is still bruised and sore. And I have this paper-cut that looks like it's getting infected, but he hasn't so much as even glanced at that yet. Anyway, I was released almost a week ago--you're the one who's been giving him fits and making him all cranky. Thanks so much for that, by the way."

John snorted, suppressing another cough. "I'd say it was my pleasure, but since I haven't been conscious and had no idea what was going on..."

A comfortable silence fell over the pair. Then Rodney could stand it no longer--he just had to know. "So, you, um, really think I'm a hero?"

Sheppard snorted again. Or maybe it was a cough, Rodney really wasn't sure. "Get real. I was talking about the Mallarians."

Now it was Rodney's turn to snort. "Um, no. Trust me I was there--and conscious--and the last thing they think of me is heroic. I cost them their last working prototype; hero is not what they were thinking in that clearing, I can assure you. Although I think Elizabeth is planning to contact them and offer compensation or something."

Another cough from the pilot, though this one was not as deep or hacking. "I can't believe you didn't just tell them."

"Tell them what?" Rodney was the one confused now.

John rolled his eyes. "Think about it, McKay. You were wondering how the Mallarians managed to avoid the Wraith and develop a viable aeronautical program. Now you know. If you had just pointed out that they were now once again safe from any Wraith ships that might happen to stop by..."

Rodney opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He closed it and then tried again, but still he couldn't seem to persuade his voice to work. "Oh," he finally got out. "I-I never thought of that. I'm mean, I'm sure I would have if I hadn't been so worried about you dying and all." He started to back away from the bed, pointing toward the door. "I, um, I should go tell Elizabeth. I mean, once she tells them, I'm sure they're going to want me to return for the usual hero-type stuff with all the proper pomp and circumstance. They'll probably give me a medal or something. And while I'm there I should definitely go back and verify that everything is in good working order--wouldn't want it to go offline again, after all, would we? But if I could get a good look at how the system operates... I, um, I should go. Now."

Halfway to the door, Sheppard stopped him. "Rodney? Thanks."

"What?" McKay's mind was already racing with possible arguments for Elizabeth and he totally missed John's meaning.

"You saved my life," reminded the pilot. "So...thanks."

Rodney's grin stretched ear-to-ear, his chest puffing up with pride. "Yes, well, that's what we heroes do, isn't it?"

John nodded his head, chuckling. "So it is."

McKay pointed over his shoulder toward the door. "Okay, so, um, I'll stop by again later. In the meantime you should get some rest, you still look terrible," admonished the physicist. And with a final wave, Rodney headed off to find Elizabeth.

Still grinning, John settled back into his pillows and drifted off to sleep.


End file.
